


Protective Detail

by YourKingElian



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Homophobia, Lance (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Lance (Voltron) Has Self-Esteem Issues, Lance has No Self-Preservation instincts, Lance's family is homophobic, Lesbian Acxa (Voltron), Lesbian Veronica (Voltron), Multi, Past Abuse, Possible Character Death, Protective Keith (Voltron), Protective Shiro (Voltron), Shaladin - Freeform, past lance/rolo, shklance - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25462900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourKingElian/pseuds/YourKingElian
Summary: After discovering that Lance is being hunted by the Galra, the most dangerous and elite mafia in the world, he's put under protective detail. And he hates it.He has to stay in his safe house and under the watchful eye of his bodyguards for a month or until they're caught.But when his bodyguards turn out to be two super hot gay guys? well, Lance can learn to love it.Or,That one where Lance has absolutely zero self-preservation instincts and is filled with self-hatred and Keith and Shiro just want to protect and love him._______Slow or non-existant updates. Wouldn't recommend reading unless you're the world's most patient person.
Relationships: Acxa & Lance (Voltron), Acxa/Veronica (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance/Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Lance/Rolo (Voltron), Lance/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 121





	1. Lance really hates protective detail

**Author's Note:**

> I write this for fun when I'm stressed and/or bored. It's completely random and just something enjoyable to write, so no hate, please! It's also currently unedited, but might be edited at a later date.

This was ridiculous. Completely and utterly ridiculous. 

“But Captain!” Lance shrieked in protest, earning a tired sigh from his superior. 

“No arguments! I’m not changing my mind.” Captain Mariah told him sternly, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“But-”

“No.”

“But I-”

“No!” 

Lance childishly stomped his feet and huffed, glaring at the cause of his displeasure. 

“I don’t need it. It’s an unnecessary exploit of resources.” He tried reasoning with the woman. 

“Lance McClain you are being  _ hunted  _ by one of the fiercest mafia’s in the world. If they found you, they’d kill you. You are being put under protective detail. You will remain in the safe house and with your guards at all times. If you disobey me, I will suspend you from the force. Do you understand?” 

Lance sighed, squeezing his eyes shut as if it could make the situation go away. He’d rather the Galra caught him, if he was being honest. 

“Fine,” he acquiesced, “but mark my words captain, I’m going to make this as painful as possible.” He promised, storming out of her office and heading directly for the training room. 

To be completely fair, the captain wasn’t wrong. He was being hunted by the world's strongest mafia. But he himself was one of the best cops in the SFD. And the SFD contained all the cops who excelled in a particular field. So that was a particularly exemplary accomplishment. He could protect himself! He didn’t need anyone to protect him. He was Lance freaking McClain! 

***

Lance freaking McClain needed a goddamn coffee pronto. And a blanket.

Why, why, why, did they have to do this at four thirty in the goddamn motherfucking morning?! He couldn’t be expected to be awake at this ungodly hour. Not to mention it’s like 37 degrees outside. 

“Couldn’t we do this at like ten thirty or something? I had to wake up at three in the morning for this shit!” Lance voiced his discontentment, scowling like it was a hobby. 

“Watch your fucking language, McClain!” Captain Mariah scolded him, also clearly irritated at the early start. “We have to get you to the safe house as soon as possible. You’ll be meeting your guards there.” 

Lance sighed heavily at the reminder. He found it quite degrading to have to be babysat by some annoying fucks. Perhaps if the “guards” weren’t required he would put up less of a fight against the lockdown. But when he posed the argument to Captain Mariah, she shut him down rather quickly. Lance has a feeling she likes seeing him suffer. 

They went around in circles and through darker streets in the city to make their way to the safe house, making certain they weren’t followed. Because of all that, they didn’t make it to the safe house until half past five. Fortunately, the safe houses were all fully stocked with food so the occupants didn’t need to go shopping themselves, which meant they had coffee. 

They quickly got out of the SFD issued work vehicle and made their way towards the safe house. It was a modest two story building with tinted windows and a rather large fence, but Lance knew there were 101 security measures, a small training room, gun range, and weapons room all hidden inside. 

They reached the door to the safe house and the captain knocked three times, paused, and then knocked twice again. A few seconds passed before the door opened to reveal a man around Lance’s age and height, sporting a rather outdated mullet, and a fiery red cropped jacket that hugged his body and showed off his well defined muscles. 

Lance eyed him critically, his face scrunched in distaste. It wasn’t that there was anything particularly wrong with him (ignoring the tragedy of a hairstyle of course), it was his mere presence in the house that ticked Lance off. He did NOT need guards. 

_ ‘Unnecessary. Completely unnecessary.’  _ Lance whined to himself. Though he had to admit, he was at least grateful the boy was hot. Not that he’d ever admit it. 

“Captain Mariah, good to see you again,” Mullet greeted her, before flicking his eyes to Lance. “And Lance McClain, I’m assuming.” Lance simply nodded in acknowledgment, still silently laughing at his hair. Keith didn’t bother with any other greeting, which Lance was grateful for. He opened the door wider to allow them entrance and then shut and locked it behind them, arming the security system. 

Standing inside was another man, also around Lance’s age and height, if not just a few years older. Lance noticed one of his arms was replaced with a prosthetic. His hair was mostly black, but it had a splash of white at the front. Another tragic hairstyle. Lance gave him the same judgemental scowl but stayed otherwise silent. 

“Lance McClain, this is Keith Kogane and Takashi Shirogane,” Captain Mariah introduced, smiling amusedly at the scrutinising looks the boys were all exchanging. 

“Now I have to warn you boys,” She started, directing her words to Lance’s new bodyguards. “Lance is rather known for ditching his detail. You’ll have more trouble keeping him in than you will keeping the Galra out. This is not the first time he’s been put on lockdown for something like this, and he’s proven himself to be quite good at escaping the guards. Which is why I handpicked the two of you. You’re probably the only two in the SFD that stand a chance. But if you decide you don’t want to do it anymore, I can find replacements. Lance,” she suddenly switched her gaze onto Lance, fixing him with a cold stare. “Don’t make me find replacements.” 

“So what?” Keith spoke up, an insufferable smirk on his face. “Lance is the teenager of the SFD?” 

Lance’s face curved into a wicked smirk of his own, plans already forming in his head. “Careful what you wish for, Mullet.” 

“Alright, now I have to leave. Good luck Kogane, Shirogane. See you in a month Lance; hopefully.” She finished with a grumble, walking out of the house. Keith re-armed the security system after her departure and turned back to face the Cuban boy who’s face had fallen back into a scowl. 

“Oh good lord, fuck me gently with a chainsaw,” Lance mumbles quietly to himself, chuckling. 

He walked away from the other men, feeling their eyes boring into the back of his head. He quickly found the kitchen and dug around in the cupboards until he found what he was looking for. 

_ ‘Finally,’  _ Lance rushed to make the coffee, almost shaking with eagerness. Maybe he had a bit of a caffeine problem, but who cares? 

He made three cups and left the sugar and milk on the bench for the other two. He might hate their presence, but he wasn’t a total prick. Most of the time. His pride could afford making them a cup of coffee. 

Just as he was pouring the water into the mugs, Keith and Shiro joined him in the kitchen, raising an eyebrow at the two other cups of coffee on the table, clearly set out for them. Lance ignored their questioning glances and finished making his coffee, adding more sugar than was really necessary to satisfy his sweet tooth. 

He took a hesitant sip of the hot drink, wincing as it burned his tongue. He moaned quietly at both the taste and the sensation of caffeine entering his blood stream after craving it for so long.  _ ‘Yup, definitely an addiction.’  _

He downed the coffee in a few seconds flat, quickly making another and sculling that one too. He sighed, his energy slightly renewed. He rinsed the mug, ignoring the eyes that never left him, and placed it in the dishwasher before walking out of the room. 

He wandered around the halls for a few minutes, checking in the rooms but none of them were what he was looking for. Finally he made it to the steps that led to the basement and ran down them, locking the door behind him so his tail couldn’t follow him down. 

When he reached the bottom a wide grin took over his face at the sight. It was a massive room, about the size of the two floors above laid side by side. The far right side of the room was stacked with weapons of every kind imaginable, and the far left held a gun range with both moving and stationary targets. Every space in between was set up like a gym, with the newest exercise equipment, a running track, and even a small section filled with dummies that you could practise fighting with blades. The center of the room was cleared out and a small section of the floor was raised like a podium for sparring matches. The SFD spared no expense. 

A small banging sound resonated through the room, and Lance lightly chuckled at his bodyguards irritation. 

“McClain!” Keith’s voice was muffled by the door separating them, but Lance could still clearly hear his frustration and laughed harder. If this pissed them off, they were in for one hell of a ride. 

*** 

Breathe. Focus. Breathe. Aim. Breathe. Fire. 

The shot rang out with an absurdly loud echo, but the bullet hit the center of the target perfectly. It was the last of fifty perfect shots, and Lance smirked lightly. He had been down here for about seven hours already, avoiding his body guards and getting in as much training as possible. His job already made up for half of his exercise, now that he was being put on lockdown, he had to make it up in training. 

Another series of bangs sounded through the room and Lance could faintly pick up Keith’s voice from the other side of the door. The words were muffled, but he could make out most of it. 

“McClain! Lunch is ready! Get your ass up here!” Lance smiled at the mention of food and quickly put the gun away. He never eats breakfast in the mornings so he was always hungry by lunch time, and today was no exception. He walked out of the training room with a large smile on his face, ignoring the questioning glances from his bodyguards who probably thought he didn’t know how to smile, or were just wondering why he was shirtless. He accepted the bowl from Shiro and thanked him, joining Keith at the dining table. The three of them ate in comfortable silence, watching the terrible comedy movie that was playing on the massive tv in the living room. Seriously, it looked like a cinema screen. At least 78”.

_ ‘Like my dick.’  _ Lance snorted at his own joke. No matter how old he got, he’d always be an inappropriate 15-year-old boy at heart. 

“What are you laughing at, McClain?” Keith asked bemused, his expression filled with so much contempt and disinterest Lance was offended. 

“Don’t worry about it Mullet, I doubt you’d get it.” Lance laughed louder at his small dick joke, even though the other two had no idea what he was talking about.

“Did you just call me Mullet?” The Korean boy questioned him, an eyebrow raised in annoyance. 

“Yes, yes I did. I mean seriously, this isn’t the eighties man.” Lance chuckled and stood up, clearing the dishes off the table. 

“You’re a dick,” Keith shot back uncreatively, only succeeding in making Lance’s smirk grow. 

_ ‘You are what you eat,’  _ Lance thought, but refrained from saying it out loud. For all he knew, they were both homophobic. “I know. Why, are you jealous?” 

Lance finished rinsing the dishes and stacked them inside the dishwasher, simultaneously flicking on the kettle. He needed more caffeine. This time he put the coffee in a travel mug instead of a proper mug so he could take it down to the training room with him. Keith and Shiro were watching him again and Lance felt annoyance bubble in his gut. 

“I know I’m hot and all, but you didn’t have to make your staring so obvious.” Lance teased them, not looking up from his coffee. 

“That’s NOT why we were watching you!” Keith defended, both of their faces going a shade red at the accusation. 

“You don’t have to lie Keith, I know I’m gorgeous.” He looked up at them and winked, quickly exiting the kitchen with his coffee to be dramatic. It was a lie though, in actuality, Lance believed the only beautiful thing about him were his blue eyes. Everything else looked like God just had some spare parts lying around that didn’t quite look right and threw them all together anyway. 

He didn’t know that Shiro and Keith were sitting upstairs, faces redder than Mars, in complete agreement with his statement.


	2. Teenagers

Lance remained in the training room for most of the day, only coming out for dinner before retreating back downstairs. Shiro and Keith never joined him, even though he left the door unlocked, which Lance was thankful for. He preferred training alone. Just like he preferred doing everything alone. He lived alone, worked alone (even though everyone else in the SFD had a partner), went to events alone (or not at all), everything. He was just alone, and he preferred it that way. Relationships complicate things. The only people he had maintained any kind of relationship with were his sister Veronica and his old partner Acxa. And he’d like to keep it that way. 

He hasn’t always been like this. Growing up, he had a massive family, too big if you asked him, and more friends than he could count. But when he came out as bisexual a few months before graduating highschool, most of his family either disowned him completely or just weren’t accepting. His friends all went to different colleges, some even moved state or to another country. The friends he had made in College eventually parted ways with him once they graduated. Which sounds sad, but Lance didn’t see it that way. Lance saw it kind of like spring cleaning. If they stayed, great. If not, then they just weren’t worth the hassle. It’s better they leave as soon as possible, rather than stick around and drag Lance’s heart over glass. 

After a few years of much the same, Lance decided he liked privacy and solitude, and hated the thought of anyone knowing anything about him that could be seen as a weakness. At first he wasn’t used to the quiet, but after he adapted to it, he almost couldn’t stand being around loud people. Everything was easier when he just did things by himself. He didn’t have to accommodate someone else’s feelings; he didn’t have to make compromises with what he wanted to do. Things were just so much easier. 

It was two in the morning by the time he stopped training, but it didn’t bother him. He’s in lockdown, so it’s not like there’s any reason for him to wake up early. Not to mention, he usually went to bed around this time, anyway. 

Lance picked his shirt up off the ground and draped it over his shoulder, then walked up the stairs to the first floor, catching Shiro in the kitchen as he was drinking a glass of water. He was shirtless and absurdly sweaty, seeing as it was two in the morning and about 30° outside. 

“What’s up, Shirogane? What happened to you?” Lance questioned him. 

Shiro watched him for a few seconds before answering, making Lance once again wonder why. “I could ask you the same thing…” 

Lance snickered at his clear avoidance, but decided not to push it. “Whatever Shirogane.” 

“Shiro,” he responded quietly. “Just call me Shiro.” 

Lance smiled at him and gave him finger guns, wishing him a good night before escaping to his room. 

_ ‘Finger guns? Dios mío, I am so bi.’ _

()

Lance woke up late the next morning to the sun shining brightly in his eyes. He groaned loudly and waved his hand around blindly on the bedside table next to him to find his phone. Finally locating it, he turned it on and blinked a few times to let his eyes adjust. 8:30, fuck. 

He lazily climbed out of bed, getting ready for the day slower than a sloth on drugs. The only thing that kept him from climbing back into his bed was the prospect of a coffee if he made it downstairs.

He descended the stairs slowly, forcing his eyes open. Keith and Shiro were both sitting in the lounge, looking as exhausted as Lance felt. The Cuban boy quickly made his way to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of scorching hot coffee, downing it in a second and quickly making another. His tongue burned under the boiling liquid, but he ignored the pain in favor of quickly finishing the second cup. 

“You have a caffeine problem,” Keith remarked from the couch, exchanging glances with Shiro who had raised an eyebrow at lance’s performance. 

“And you have a talking problem. Who the fuck speaks before nine, are you crazy?” Lance made his third cup of coffee and stared Keith down as he drank that one too. He placed it in the dishwasher and turned the machine on before retreating to the training room. 

“Hey! Where the fuck are you going?” Keith called after him. Lance turned back to face him and saw both boys had stood up from the couch and started following after him. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Lance answered in his sassiest ‘duh’ voice. 

“It looks like you’re going downstairs to train but I must be wrong because you trained almost non-stop from five-thirty yesterday morning to two this morning with nothing but three cups of coffee and two meals in your system. So surely, you wouldn’t be stupid enough to drink three cups of coffee and go back to training with only six hours of sleep.” Shiro deadpanned, making Lance snicker. 

Lance flicked his eyes between the two, an amused smirk on his face. “I don’t think you’re gonna like what I’m about to tell you.”

Shiro and Keith exchanged a contemplative look, seeming to have an entire conversation with their eyes, before looking back to Lance. “You grab the teenager, I’ll get the door.” Keith said to Shiro, quickly running passed Lance. 

“What the- HEY! WHAT THE FUCK?!” Lance exclaimed from atop Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro laughed as Lance squirmed around, trying to climb down but so far failing rather miserably. 

“Sorry McClain. Our job is to protect you, we can’t have you dying from overworking yourself.” Keith smirked wickedly, locking the door to the basement as he watched Shiro haul Lance back into the living room as the aforementioned Cuban boy kicked in protest. 

“Shiro, put me the fuck down, NOW!” They both laughed at the sight of Lance squirming, watching him closely as Shiro set him down on the couch. 

“Not that you could even get into the training room seeing as I have the key, but if you do, we’re confiscating the coffee machine.” Keith smirked again.  _ ‘Does this guy ever not smirk?’  _

“Fuck yourself with a chainsaw, Mullet.” Lance grumbled in annoyance. 

“Besides, I wasn’t the only one up at two in the morning training,” Lance snapped, thinking back to a sweaty and shirtless Shiro, standing in the kitchen at two in the morning with a glass of water. “Unless Shiro had the world’s most intense nightmare last night.” 

Keith and Shiro exchange a knowing look and a smirk, before looking back at Lance. “I’ll unlock the training room after breakfast.” Keith promised before walking off into the kitchen. 

“Don’t bother with mine, I don’t eat breakfast.” Lance claimed, pretending not to notice the looks they shot at each other and him. 

“Well, you do now!” Shiro replied, shooting Lance a shit-eating grin and flashing his pearly whites. “If you want to ever see the inside of the training room again,” he finished with a threat. 

“Fucking assholes,” Lance muttered under his breath, purposefully loud enough for them to hear. 

He couldn’t understand why they seemed to care so much about how often he trained. It’s not like it was really any of their business. Their job was to make sure nobody got in or out of the house or attempted to kill Lance; his personal health was none of their concern. If he suddenly died of a heart attack, that would be Captain Mariah’s responsibility, not theirs. 

“Remind me again why it bothers you so much that I train a lot.” Lance questioned them, sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen with Shiro as Keith cooked. 

“Because we love you ever so much and can’t imagine a life without you,” Keith batted his eyes with a sappy smile stuck to his face, sarcasm dripping off his whole being. 

“Aww, fuck you too, Mullet,” Lance bit back, plastering the same sickening smile on his face. Shiro snorted a laugh, breaking the two out of their unofficial staring competition that was verging on creepy and awkward as neither had lost their fake love-sick smiles. 

“Get a room!” Shiro guffawed, almost falling out of his chair with how hard he was laughing. 

Keith quickly served the food, trying to get out of the awkward situation as fast as possible, but Shiro couldn’t stop laughing long enough to eat. The subjects of his entertainment watched him bemused, Lance almost considering pushing him out of his chair. 

“You two bicker like an old married couple!” Shiro continued to joke. 

Lance pushed him out of his chair. 

But the sight of Shiro, bewildered at the sudden fall with red tainting his cheeks from his heavy laughter and eyes wide with shock, had Keith and Lance bellowing with roaring laughter themselves. 

_ ‘Burden’ _ , the word flowed at the back of his mind, a bitter reminder. As if happiness was such a foreign concept to him that his mind couldn’t allow it. 

_ ‘You’re just messing up their lives. Now they have to take care of your dumb, ungrateful ass.’  _ Lance immediately sobered up, but forced a smile on his face, anyway. Pretend like everything’s okay, and no one will ever know. No one had ever noticed when Lance’s demeanor changed suddenly. No one had ever really cared enough to pay close attention. Veronica and Acxa were the only ones who could ever catch on that something was wrong, but with them both living a few states away now, he rarely got to see them. It was easier just to pretend nothing was wrong, anyway. If people believed he was fine, they wouldn’t press. Wouldn’t pretend to care. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Keith asked him, surprising Lance. 

“What do you mean?”  _ ‘Force a laugh, smile brightly. They won’t ever know.’  _ That’s what lance always told himself, and so far, it had always worked. 

“You just… I don’t know. Is something wrong?” Keith questioned, shooting a fleeting glance at a now upright Shiro. 

“Oh yeah, sorry. Just tired.” He lied. It was a lie he used a little too often, but it worked. 

“Alright,” Keith still looked skeptical but seemed to trust his words. “If you’re sure you’re okay. Though, I doubt you’d say if you weren’t.” Lance smiled sheepishly, not even trying to deny it. They weren’t stupid, after all. 

“Let’s watch a movie!” Shiro quickly cleared the plates and tucked them into the dishwasher, bounding over to the TV like an overexcitable puppy. 

“I vote for horror or action!” Keith called out, making himself comfortable on the living room couch. 

“We could do a comedy?” Shiro threw in his two cents, joining Keith on the couch as they scrolled through the Netflix options. 

Lance was dying to get into the training room. To work until his muscles felt like they would melt and he would rather die than continue to feel the burning ache. He knew it would make the abusive thoughts go away; it always had. But he knew there was no point arguing. It was better just to watch the dumb movie to get in their good graces and then ask for the key. 

“What do you want to watch Lance?” 

“I don’t know, pick whatever.” He told them, feeling content leaving the movie choice in their hopefully capable hands. Chances were, he wasn’t going to enjoy anything until he was able to start training again, so there was no point going through the hassle of picking one out. 

Eventually they decided on a movie, and Keith put it on. By the time the opening credits finished rolling and cut to the movie, Lance had completely zoned out and gotten trapped inside his own mind.

_ ‘How useless. Can’t even protect yourself. Mariah had to get you babysitters.’ _

_ ‘There’s a thousand other things they could be doing right now. Instead, they have to take care of you.’ _

_ ‘Can’t do anything right. The only thing you could do was your job, and now you can’t even do that without messing up.’  _

_ ‘You’re lazy, useless, a burden. Everyone hates you!’  _

_ ‘All you do is ruin lives. People would be happier if you weren’t around.’ _

_ ‘You’re just a  _ **_faggot;_ ** _ a disgrace. _ **_’_ **

_ ‘Your mother was right; you’re nothing.’  _

Lance bit back a whimper, eyes trained blankly on the screen even though he couldn’t see it through the tears blurring his vision. 

His thoughts haunted him for the remaining two hours of the movie and Lance was just about to break down the door to the training room if Keith didn’t give him the key. 

The credits started slowly rolling, Keith and Shiro delving into a conversation about whatever the hell they just watched. Lance couldn’t remember any of the movie despite staring at the tv for the last couple of hours watching it. Faintly he could recall a few jump scares and some screaming, but aside from that he came up blank. 

“Keith,” he started, itching to get into the training room. “Can I get the key now?” 

The boy looked back to him, a contemplative look on his face. “I don’t know, what do you think Shiro?” 

Shiro whispered something quietly to Keith, who nodded as they both turned back to an expecting Lance. 

“Only if you let us train with you,” Shiro proposed, smiling just slightly. Lance groaned at the suggestion, already missing his private training time, but decided his urge to train was stronger than his need to be alone. 

“Fine.” the two boys hopped off the couch, snickering when Lance dragged himself off the seat lethargically. If he was going to do this, he’d need more caffeine. 

He stopped in the kitchen on the way through, ignoring the exasperated glares from his company, and threw together a quick cup of really strong coffee. 

“That shit’s not good for you, McClain!” Keith called at him, a disappointed look on his face. 

“You say that like you think I give a fuck,” Lance bit back irritatedly. 

“That’s four today, Lance,” Shiro backed Keith up, his arms crossed over his chest. “And it’s only eleven.” 

“I missed two and a half hours worth of training because of you assholes. Shut it.” Lance chugged the coffee quickly before walking back to them, not sparing either a look as he continued on to the training room. 

The two guards followed after him, shooting meaningful glances at each other, seemingly having a conversation with their eyes. And Lance was rather pissed he wasn’t in on it. If they started pulling more stunts like they did today, whether it be taking away his training time or his caffeine, Captain Mariah would definitely need to find some new bodyguards. He might act like a damn teenager, but if they keep treating him like one he’s going to bash their goddamn heads in. 

Keith unlocked the door to the training room and walked down the stairs, quickly followed by Lance with Shiro trailing not far behind. 

Lance immediately made his way over to the gun range, Keith and Shiro already out of his head as he eyed the targets, still riddled with bullets from his training yesterday. He raked his eyes over the gun racks, his hands itching to pick one up. He had definitely suffered from his lack of training this morning, and was determined to make it up. He licked his lips, indecisively looking over the vast array of guns before sighing and grabbing a random one off the wall. He twisted the silencer into the muzzle of the gun, not wanting to be the reason his guards go deaf.

He stood in front of the first target, adjusting his stance and pretending he couldn’t feel Shiro and Keith’s eyes watching his every slight movement. If he could maintain his focus during a high pressure exam that would dictate his entire future and was conducted and judged by some of the best marksmen the world has ever seen, he can keep his chill under the eyes of two super hot dudes who had both already stripped off their shirts. 

His eyes locked on the centre of the target instantly, and his arms raised the gun almost without conscious thought. The target was only twenty feet away; he could hit the bullseye in his sleep. He pulled the trigger, quickly moving to the next target without even glancing to check if he hit the center. He didn’t need to check, even if it made him sound egotistical to say so. 

He fired again, and again, and again, moving between targets with ease, never checking to see if he made the shot. It wasn’t until he reached the moving targets that he finally slowed down, having to focus on his aim before he fired. He was so lost in the activity, the world around him completely dissolved. Before he knew it he had trained with three different guns, making every shot perfectly. The negative thoughts that had plagued him had vanished like they were never there, putting Lance at ease for the first time since waking up earlier that morning. The grip of the gun pressed into his hand, the kickback when he fired, the pride when he saw the bullet hole going straight through the centre and knowing  _ he did that _ . This was home, a haven. The only place in the world that Lance was truly comfortable. 

It felt like almost no time had passed at all when Shiro took the liberty of snapping Lance out of his trance. He placed his prosthetic hand on Lance’s shoulder, causing the younger of the two to jump slightly at the unexpected contact. He had completely forgotten he had company, so he was unpleasantly surprised. Though, upon taking in Shiro’s more than flattering figure drenched in sweat from his heavy workout, scars covering almost every inch of his skin, he couldn’t really complain all that much. Lance had stripped off his own shirt half way through his workout, not wanting it to get soaked in sweat, and was baring his own scars for the world to see. The reminder made him shudder, self-conscious of the exposure. 

“Come on, we should take a break for lunch.” Lance scrunched up his eyebrow and stared at Shiro in confused disbelief. 

“Lunch? Shiro, we had breakfast like five minutes ago.” 

“Four hours ago, actually.” 

“Four hours, five minutes. Who cares? The point is, it’s way too soon to be eating again.” Shiro threw him the same look of disbelief that Lance had previously given him, but Lance, being the total dumbass that he is, continued talking anyway. “I mean seriously, who eats three meals a day anymore?” 

“Normal people, Lance.” 

“Not to quote 2013 goth Tumblr, but normal people scare me.” Lance retorted smugly. 

“I’m pretty sure that quote came from a TV show, actually,” Keith interrupted their standoff, smirking proudly at Lance as if knowing the origins of the most famously emo quote to ever grace the internet was a good thing. Keith, like Shiro and Lance, was also shirtless. And like Shiro, was unnecessarily hot. He didn’t have as much muscle as Shiro, but it was clear he spent a lot of time working out, his muscles perfectly defined. He didn’t have quite as many as scars either, but it didn’t make him any less attractive. Lance had the feeling Keith’s scars were a little more emotional than they were physical. 

“It also scares me that you know that. Scares me, but doesn’t surprise me.” Lance returned his smirk, watching as Keith’s own smirk fell. 

“Teenagers,” Keith huffed. 

Lance released a noise that was somewhere between a snarl and a sigh, insulted by Keith’s abrasive comment. “Emo’s” he snapped back. 

“Enough! Upstairs, both of you.” 


End file.
